


Fricatrix

by jinglebell



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Cunnilingus, D/s elements and a hint of primal play, F/F, Fingering, PWP, Rough Sex, Scissoring, Squirting, cw: use of the word cunt in a sexual context, devoted subby Apprentice, enthusiastic consent!, it's teeth and inferno and passion and beautiful synchronized chaos, possessive toppy Nadia, sex-fighting, women have sex irl is not like watching two delicate swans mating gently in a pond ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 18:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinglebell/pseuds/jinglebell
Summary: Nadia and the apprentice have rough sex. This particular apprentice is female.





	Fricatrix

Nadia’s face is wet with your slick.

She comes up for air, thick lace of lashes clumped together. Her cheeks are flushed and red eyes glitter down at you as she crawls back up to cover your mouth with her own. You let her spear her tongue between your lips.

You taste yourself. It’s good. Whatever she wants, you will do. She’s fought for you, tamed you, earned you. You belong to her fair and square.

Your heart aches for her, echoing the heavy thumping in your clit. You two had wrestled on the massive bed, fighting for dominance, biting hard but not scratching — you had hissed and spat like a cat, but it gradually had become clear that Nadia is superior to you, trained in combat. Her brown skin gleams with sweat.

She opens your legs, smacks the inside of your thigh with a snap when you try to jerk them closed.

“Don’t you close to me. This pussy is mine,” Nadia says. “Say it!"

Humiliated and more aroused than you have ever been in your entire life, you cover your face with your arm and pin your bottom lip with your teeth. You think about what the court would say if they could see you now. They probably wouldn’t be surprised. You have overheard the discreet gossip, the widespread opinion that the simple fortune teller had become Nadia’s prized pet.

Hot fingers curl around your wrist, hold it down on the bed.

“Say it,” she hisses. “Say this is mine.”

* * *

  _Submit._

_** [Refuse.] ** _

* * *

The play-fighting has been so fun. You don't want it to end yet, so you shake your head no.

Nadia slaps your pussy.

You shriek, thrashing beneath her as she manhandles your legs apart and slots her hips sideways between yours, straddling your thigh and looming high above you on her knees. She braces your calf on her shoulder. You are panting, still feeling the sting. You’ve never been so wet in your life. The elegant stripe of her pubic hair is as rich and violet as the hair on her head.

“Say it,” she commands, eyes burning down at you from above. “I own you and you love it. Stop pretending and. just. say. it.”

She stares you down, bigger and stronger and oh so competent, oozing confidence. Here is a woman who is not afraid to make decisions — and reinforce them.

“T-this pussy is yours,” you gasp.

She nestles her cunt down onto yours, two wet female sexes kissings with a soft wet sound. She presses down and grinds, rocking her hips against yours, jostling swollen clits, mixing slick until it trickles down your ass, staining the thousand thread count sheets. Pressure is building in your belly.

“I’m yours,” you manage to rasp, clinging to her hip with one hand and scrabbling to squeeze one of Nadia’s small, plump breasts in the other. Her nipple is pierced with itty bitty opals.

They look expensive.

She is breathing heavily, head tossed back and long ribbons of purple hair sliding coolly over your hot skin. She bounces lightly on top of you. The pressure inside of you is ramping up. Damn her. The curve of her mouth alone is capable of bringing you to your knees.

“Sweet girl. My wanton little magician, always so obedient,” she stares down into your eyes.

“O-Only for you,” you whisper. You are ascending, close to the peak.

Nadia’s eyes fly wide. “What did you say?”

You swallow, looking away. Your belly is tight, cunt aching, if Nadia keeps grinding her pussy on your clit, she is going to make you cum—

Nadia’s hands touch your throat gently. “Apprentice. What did you just say?”

“Only for you! You’re the one that makes me like this, you’re the one who is turning me this way.  Fuck. I wasn’t like this before. Oh, Empress alive. Nadia. I-I’m gonna—“

Nadia growls, “Do it, my  _beautiful_ little slut.”

So you do. You orgasm hard, burning from the cunt up, magma so hot its pigment has been lost to whiteness, the peak of your pleasure a gift for her, a modest offering of your body, your submission. You keen, rip your leg out of her grip and curl around yourself in the fetal position, cry out and shudder, cup your pussy like that will soothe the sensation away or perhaps coax it further.

“Good girl!” Nadia croons. She is flicking her fingertips rapidly over her own clit, massaging the root of it into her mound, thighs quivering. When she orgasms it is with a decadent groan. You sit up shakily and push Nadia back down onto the bed, taking advantage of her lassitude.

You press what meagre body weight you have on top of her and try to hold her down like she did you, even though you both know she could reverse your positions. You stroke your fingertips along the glossy seam of her pussy. Nudge two gently inside. She’s still flexing when you curl your fingertips inside, jostling the ridged, swollen spot. She gives a startled cry. You drag your fingers hard against it and she screams, hands curling white knuckled into the sheets. You pump your fingers mercilessly into the most vulnerable bundle of nerves in her body.

Nadia's screams melt into low animal moans that, out of context, truly sound like agony. With every firm stroke of your fingers you draw from her a deep and helpless sound, a desperate sound with a hint of fear. She doesn't like feeling out of control, but the pleasure keeps her from overthinking it. You don’t stop. You press your other palm onto her mound and apply what you know from experience is satisfying pressure.

“Please,” you beg. “Oh, Nadia please. I want it so bad. Say you will. You're always taking care of me, give me everything I ask for — I need this now. I want to make you feel good. Please.”

Nadia’s hair sticks to her face with sweat, lips trembling. “Anything for you—“

“Empress. _Yes._ ” You swirl your thumb on her clit.

She sobs and orgasms. Hard. She is squirting, strong gushing pulses of slick flooding your forearm, your breasts, your smiling face. She keeps going, a hedonistic moment suspended in time, shaking until the gushes of slick from her cunt begin to slow and then subside.

It takes time to relearn how to breathe. 

The morning light illuminates her face as you quietly regard each other in the nest of pillows. You can hear birds outside, the sounds of the city waking up. You can’t stop smiling. Dark red eyes trace the contours of your face with an impossible softness, and a slender hand explores the curve of your hip.

"You are going to be the death of me," sighs Nadia fondly, a smile bringing crow's feet to the corners of her eyes.


End file.
